


Life On A Dead World by Bonita del Rio

by Legion FanFic Archivist (Hanofer)



Category: Legion of Super-Heroes (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanofer/pseuds/Legion%20FanFic%20Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Era: GAP. Sun Boy goes in search of the reclusive Element Lad</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life On A Dead World by Bonita del Rio

**Author's Note:**

> Element Lad, Sun Boy, and the Dark Circle are all copyright DC Comics Inc. This story is simply written because I love the Legion and wanted to express it. No one will have financial profit from it.

  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
On dead worlds, silence reigns. Not the silence of the infinite vacuum, for the wind still blows and howls through the ruins like an angry soul whose lover refuses to argue. The rain still peppers the roofs and creates endless circular patterns in puddles cradled by pot holes that will never be repaired. If one listens carefully, one can hear an animal skitter about for a meal, or chitter an alarm if it senses another presence, However there is no higher life, no love. Only survival. Any being who dares intrude upon this silence cannot hope to remain quiet and undetected for long. A simple misstep on a pile of debris can end the silence with a clattering bang that would make one wonder if the silence could ever be repaired or restored. On this dead world, one man knows the answer. He has disrupted the silence all too many times. Either his ankle slipped on a pebble or he used his starship, a parting gift from a previous life, to shatter the silence as he escaped for a brief time into a world of life and sound.

The sound of a starship shattered the silence again. This time, the man was no where near his own. Curious and outraged, he ran to the clearing to watch the invaders of the dead world.

The invaders were silent for a long while, allowing only the starship's hum as their sound. More than likely they were not aware of it; only living with silence taught the man how much noise civilized beings heard every day and yet did not know. Whether their intentional, if incomplete, silence was out of the respect of the dead or the radiation, their observer could not tell. Then they broke the noiselessness as the portal of their ship irised open. One by one, the humans marched out of their ship, each carrying their equipment. Just as systematically, they began checking it. A stage and central control panel and were reconstructed. Scanners, shavers, diggers began briefly and stopped. A holographic grid was tested against the ground. The man's hand tightened on his hiking staff. He knew what they were now and they weren't welcome on this dead world.

Two last humanoids, a man and a woman, strolled out of the ship. She was petite and dark in both skin and hair. Where she had a nervous and choppy stride, he sauntered down the ramp with an easy grace that indicated an ease with not only who he was with, but where he was. As the observer left his vantage point to confront the intruders, the man just leaving the starship began to speak to his companion.

"I'm not sure that this is so much a study of a society rather than a study of a man," he began. "Look over there, Ayn, to the southeast. There's a wall over there with some quartzite pylons. There's where he began the work of creating each and every _**tsuirn**_ we see. Over in the northern areas, you'd really see how much his powers and skills advanced over the fifteen years it took him to finish this work. Or, wait a minute, yeah... over there, about fifty meters west of the wall. Can you see the differences in those _**tsuirns**_ , as compared to the ones on either side? Those are replacements for the ones the Emerald Empress destroyed during her last day alive."

"How do you know that?" the woman asked.

He smiled at her a dazzling smile, full of self-confidence and mischief. His green eyes sparkled with the promise of fun that attracted her to him as much as the puzzle he presented. Laura MacPherson was rarely the kind of field archaeologist that would pull surprises on her team, yet this time, she insisted on bringing abroad another member of the team that no one ever heard of, yet seemed to have a great understanding of art history, as well as the psyche of the dead world and the one man who lived on it. For a moment, the woman thought she saw his eyes flash the blue of the new-born star. But no, when she looked again, they were the green she recognized. Again, she tried to read his mind, but discovered a barrage of useless memory fragments such as old popular songs and tri-vid show images blocked any real understanding.

"I wish you'd tell me who trained you in psychic defenses," she muttered wistfully.

"And spoil the speculation? The suspense? Now, Ayn, why would I ruin the crew's fun?"

"You trusted me enough last night," she replied with a sly smile of her own. "I just want to be your friend, Adar."

He grasped her hands in his warm ones and kissed each knuckle. "You are my friend, Ayn. It's just friends don't have to share every secret."

"On Titan there are no secrets." 

"That's very romantic and very untrue, m'dear. Lovers' lies are something I'm very familiar with, even those of beautiful Titanese women."

"Perrin Adar! May I talk to you for a moment?" Dr. Laura MacPherson, professor of xenoarchaeaology of Metropolis University shouted. Adar shrugged his apology to his playmate and walked to the professor. "Do you mind telling me what idiocy you're up to? Prodding Ayn's curiosity and ethnic pride is one sure way you'll push your luck too far."

"Don't worry about me, cousin, um, doctor. I'm just playing a game. Ayn likes me well enough that if she figures out what's going on, she won't blow the whistle."

"I've taken a lot of chances just to get you on my ship, let alone this far. And you're ready to ruin it for a laugh? I always knew you were a selfish brat, but I didn't think you burned out all your brains!"

"Touchy, touchy. Don't worry, Laura. Everything's fine. I know I'm here because I'm a great pilot, which may be handy since this world is in Khund territory and because I'm an art collector... and if Jan makes an appearance, I'm here to figure out how crazy the 'Madman of Trom' really is, and to take him out if necessary."

"You make it sound so easy. But this man destroyed entire fleets in his heyday."

"So did I m'dear, so did I."

A blood curdling scream pierced the valley and the humans' droning sounds. Explosions rocked the area just outside the encampment and scared the scientists. MacPherson reached for the controls of the console she would use to guide the team's work from, hoping the satellite tie-in would show her where the attacks were coming from. Just as she touched the warning controls, the walking staff landed on her hand, not to break, but to bruise. 

"Don't touch it," a young blond man growled. "I won't have this world savaged by graverobbers, even ones the likes of you." He studied the gathered scientists. "You have four hours to pack your gear and leave! Not one minute more! If you do not leave, then the ghosts of Trom will rise again and through me, they will take their vengeance against those would rip open their world so they that could stare at their bones and take what is theirs!" He brought the staff down on a comp-pad Ayn was holding. It broke as it fell to the hard ground. "Go! And leave us in peace!" The former protector of the living, the former Element Lad, almost shrieked as he smashed test tubes and beakers off their table.

Ayn stood slightly crouched as she tried to enter the Trommite's mind and see if he was sane. Laura held her breath in anticipation, and rubbed her sore hand as she looked from Jan Arrah's glazed eyes, long, tangled hair and unshaven face, back to Adar and his relaxed stance. The others waited for a signal from Dr. MacPherson. After a moment where the silence ruled again, Perrin Adar chuckled and shook his head in an almost affectionate disbelief. "Put the bo staff down, Jan. You're scaring the others."

"Godsouls! Dirk? Is that you? What in the names of all the hells are you doing here wearing that stupid distorter?"

MacPherson gusted out a sigh of relief, rubbed her almost numb hand and then glared at her cousin. The other scientists were looking at the ex-Legionnaires, scarcely believing that they had just spent weeks with one of them. Dirk deactivated the camouflage and laughed slightly.

"Of course. Your psi-training, your knowledge of Trom, it all makes sense now," Ayn whispered as she studied her lover's true face. "but why the disguise?"

"Laura insisted."

"I'm glad to see you're well, Dirk," Jan interrupted. "But that does not change the fact that your friends are not welcome here. Whether it's in the name of science or greed, grave robbing is still grave robbing and I'll not allow my people to be desecrated. The U.P. military machine, Khunds and pirates have learned that the hard way. I'd prefer not to have to teach that lesson again."

"So what are you going to do? We know you're not crazy, so we know you won't kill us!" one of the scientists challenged.

"How much research are you planning to do without equipment? How long to you expect to survive here without anti-radiation medication?" Jan responded. "I don't have to kill to defuse your threat to this place."

Before the hostile archaeologist could retort, Dirk broke the line of sight between the two. "Whoa there, guys. Arguing like that is going to get us nowhere. Jan, this is your world and you're the lawmaker here. We respect that. But are you sure that you want to toss us off of here without even another thought?"

"Absolutely. How long would it take for you to dismantle your equipment and store it safely?"

"You can't be serious!" MacPherson shouted.

"I am perfectly serious. You've come here without me permission and against my wishes. It's only out of deference to my... _**neelon**_...here that I'm giving you time to pack your gear safely. Most leave Trom without it. You have until dusk. Then I'll start helping your packing." He turned and left the archaeologists.

"What a royal prick," Laura muttered under her breath. " _ **And what the hell is a 'neelon'**_ anyway?"

"In this case, it's the chance that he'll let me plead your case. So be a good girl, Laura and keep the others in line," Dirk requested and began walking back to the ship.

"And where the hell are you going?"

"I'm going to see if I can find the water closet. The idiot who designed your ship decided one of the best ways to save space was to put it right by the shielded water tanks. Then I'm going to see about getting a peace offering together for our host."

"This is not going to be my day," Jan cursed. A tension headache started the moment he saw the new arrivals' ship, and now with the discovery of Dirk among them, the headache flared and throbbed. His back teeth pounded with the beat of his heart. His neck and shoulders ached with a stiffness he thought he left behind when he left the Legion. "The Black Dawn isn't the cause, Dirk. It's the symptom of a society that's critically ill and wants to die", he told Dirk. "I can't stay any longer and watch its death throes. I've been through it before."

"Damn it, Dirk, what are you doing here?" he hissed as spots of darkness began filling the space behind his eyes. Dizziness swayed him and dropped him to his knees. A spike drove between his eyes and drove him to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his ears against his head, but he knew there was no sound, no lights. "Godsouls, no... don't let me lose consciousness..." he begged between clinched teeth as the psychic attack reached its crescendo.

Much could be said of Dirk's timing, or luck. Because he was in a shielded area of the ship, the psychic wave was muted by the metal and electronic fields. He knew immediately what was making his teeth ache and stayed in the safety of the ship. However, curiosity and concern combined and forced him to watch the events outside.

The entire camp was writhing in pain. Ayn was spasming, her eyes rolled in back of her head. Spittle flecked her lips and choked her. The others were still screaming. The former Sun Boy could only turn away from the viewer and cry. Finally the subtle vibrations in the hull ceased and Dirk turned back to the screen. Among the twitching bodies of his friends, soldiers dressed in black suits and deep purple tunics moved in and began securing them. One soldier took his rifle and blew Ayn's head off as two others approached the ship. 

Dirk reactivated the distorter. "Please, please, please, let me do this right." He wasn't certain who he prayed to as he reactivated his distorter. What to do next? Fake unconsciousness and be captured? Attack and hope that he alone, with a year's absence of combat training could take on two soldiers of the Dark Circle? How to attack? Should he take the ship and escape, get help? No, by that time, the Dark Circle would get what they wanted from the archeological team and... Jan. Where was he? If he wasn't here, then was he captured?

The idea of Element Lad helpless in the grip of the Dark Circle crystallized Dirk Morgna's thoughts. There was no way in hell he could allow such a powerful man, and a friend that called him _**neelon**_ , stay a prisoner of the Circle.

The soldiers entered the ship. Dirk inhaled the mixture of fresh and acidic recycled air, and slipped into the cramped back of the ship. The pair wondered if there was anyone there with their distorted and static-filled electronic voices. One of them volunteered to search the back of the ship. The former Legionnaire smiled his hunter's smile. This was going to be good.

Fifteen minutes later, the soldier rejoined his comrade. "There's no one back there. The last one must have gone exploring," he reported.

"Damn. That's a loose thread the sergeant is going to want severed. We'll have to report it to him directly."

"Let's do it," the second soldier agreed. The electronic distortion hid a strange tone in his voice.

Inside the Circle's camp, Jan struggled to remain conscious as he was dragged into a laboratory. Every nerve was screaming at him to give up awareness, to rest in quiet and darkness... but no, that was what the Circle wanted. With blurry vision, he saw the rows of gas canisters and a table with platforms full of needles and knives floating beside it. One chance was all he had. He reached into his tired mind and tried to find the will to do what he had to before...

The Dark Circle's interrogators shaved his head before they clamped him to the table and activated a psychic neutralizer. With his sense of chemical compositions numbed, he might as well been blind. Blindness followed shortly as the medicos wrapped an opaque visor over his eyes.

A shuffling gait entered the sounds of the room. The stink of methane hit Jan's nostrils. The only warning he had before a telepathic intrusion rattled his soul.

(What is your name?) it demanded.

Jan almost answered, but realized that what the first step to damnation. (You know who I am.)

(Do not resist. What is your name?)

(I will not help you brainwash me, lover of darkness.)

(You choose to suffer, child of demonic light.)

(I choose to keep my own ways and my own will, Hykraiusan.)

(Then you will burn in your own desire for the damned light.) The amphibian telepath decided and began to force his mind into Jan's. The Trommite knew the telepath was right as a beam of blinding light cut into his nervous system. He screamed.

One soldier at the edge of the camp shuddered and checked his handiwork on a small device one last time. Another scream from the most important prisoner caused the solider to wince again as he walked back to the main building in the encampment. Soon, he thought, soon.

The blinding white light Jan was forced to endure was mirrored by a arc of energy so powerful that it singed the stones near it. The camp went into chaos as one of their own was engulfed by fire that had no source.

"Hear me, creatures of the dark," the fire covered-body intoned. "Know that you are helpless against the children of light who will defend themselves against your blasphemy with all the powers of the light!" With a determined stride, the fiery being walked into the main building and began burning it to the ground. Callously, he ignored the projectiles and the fire weapons as he advanced towards the medical area, leaving molten footprints in his wake. 

The amphibian, sensitive to changes in temperature, looked at the portal and saw Lucifer Morningstar enter his room. "Get away from him," the anti-angel roared. The telepath backed away until he touched the mind of the being approaching. (You are no devil!)

The fiery being banked his flames until his fire-gold hair and blazing blue eyes were visible. "Guess again, nullwit! I'm every bit a devil when it comes to you!" Through the psychic link, he fed the Hykraiusan his anger against the beings who kidnapped and tortured his family and his friends. The amphibian quailed as Dirk burned through Jan's bounds and removed the blindfold. "You ready to get out of here?"

"Yea."

Then rig up some 152, Jan, and let's fly."

"Give me a second, Dirk..."

"That may be all we have!"

Jan tried to rid his mind and body of the fatigue and pain. All he needed was a small amount of flight ring material, just enough for someone as stubborn as Dirk to use. A small gray blob appeared in mid-air and Dirk grabbed it and burned a hole through the ceiling. Then he grabbed his sagging friend and flew to safety.

"What about the people you came with?" Jan asked.

"The Circle is wise to me now. Are you ready for a fight yet?"

Jan shook his head and instantly regretted it. It would have been a kindness if his head fell off.

Dirk flew back to his ship, spoke the password and pulled a semi-conscious lead weight into the ship and to his cramped, minuscule room. Even thought there was barely enough room for the bed that Jan collapsed on, Dirk had managed to add a few personal touches: A print of Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" was electrostatically adhered to the wall, a music player with music from the length of human history, and two small sculptures. One Jan didn't recognize, but the other was a ball of glass and gold that he made for Dirk during one particularly traumatic visit to this dead world. On the writing desk rested Dirk's passport, the one that identified him as Perrin Adar. Jan looked at the strange face and wondered why a Terran so passionately committed to his heritage would have such successfully forged travelling papers.

Dirk had disappeared for a moment when Jan was not paying attention. He returned with a glass of a particularly vile-looking pink potion. "Combination pain killer and stimulant for the discriminating psychically-powered individual. I hope it tastes better than it looks... or smells."

Jan took the drink and gulped it down as fast as he could. "It doesn't," Jan admitted as he choked.

"Just lay back for a bit. We can't stay long. You know this is the first place they'll look."

"They may choose not to look. They have hostages, Dirk, and they could use them to force our surrender."

The Terran heard the soft lilt in his old friend's voice. Apparently living without hearing another accent triggered Jan's boyhood pronunciations. "It's interesting that you're worried about the archaeology team, considering you were threatening them yourself not too long ago."

"I don't like their intentions, Dirk. It doesn't mean that I'd want them dead. Every life is sacred. Especially those who attempt to preserve knowledge... even if they go about it the wrong way."

"If you're well enough to invite a philosophical debate, then you're well enough to travel. But are you well enough to fight?" 

"Not quite yet. My mind feels like it's been scraped with a vegetable peeler."

"You should see your head," Dirk's red-gold, wavy hair contrasted sharply with Jan's baldness.

"Ah, hell, I needed to get it cut soon anyway."

As if agreed upon, the two stopped bantering and slipped back to the hatch. Dirk guarded it and Jan used his extra-sense to scan the area. He signalled "all clear" and the pair disappeared into the ruins where they could hide from the Dark Circle as long as they needed to. For the sake of his cousin and the friends he made these past two weeks, Dirk hoped it wouldn't be long.

"Would it be better to attack now or wait until dawn, when we'd have a psychological advantage?" Jan asked to signal his readiness two hours later.

The other man shook his head. "I don't think we can wait. They've already killed one person in that team. This part of the Circle is bloodthirsty."

"As if the others parts we met weren't? Well, how do you think we should plan it? You take the frontal attack while I break into the hostage compound from the back and then take out what I can?"

"Yeah, the old approaches are always the best. Too bad we don't have a battle cry any more."

"What's wrong with 'Long live the Legion'?"

A shadow eclipsed Dirk's face and devil-may-care smile. "The Legion is dead, Jan. And there's no phoenix gestating in the ashes."

There was no way to answer, so Jan turned away. "Let's do this, Dirk. I've had enough violence to last a lifetime."

The Trommite created a large platform of 152 and stepped onto it. With a will that had been strengthened and refined by years of manipulating chemical compositions, he forced the crude flying platform into the air. Dirk, who had to control the heat and light he radiated--even in his sleep--took the handful of the metal and wished it to fly him back to the Circle's camp.

Both men had forgotten the almost euphoric feeling of flight but neither of them could afford to indulge the feeling. Jan was already concentrating on the camp and the shed where the scientists were, while Dirk kept his fiery energies still, almost cold, as he approached the front of the camp.

The soldiers of the Dark Circle were relaxed. They were sure that the intruders would not be stupid enough to attack during the night, when their night vision would give them the advantage. Surely the fiery one and the transmuter would be low enough to attack during the dawn, when the majority of the Circle members would be praying for strength to withstand the light that blinds the truth.

Dirk flared to near-nova light. "Surprise, roundheads! Miss me?" he whooped and began melting any weapons he saw.

A soldier near the makeshift prison ran for the hostages. Jan used his walking stick as a bat and swung it at the man's chest. The soldier whoofed and fell. A second later, the wall's atoms fell as the molecular bindings broke at the Trommite's wishes. Another second, and the prisoners were free.

"Don't argue with me," Jan warned. "There's an anti-grav platform nearby. Get on it. I'll take you back to your camp. As soon as you jump off, get another dose of anti-radiation treatment. Dirk's sadly out of practice, and even in the old days, it was good to have someone cover you."

The scientists obeyed and Jan jumped on after them. As he willed the platform into flight, he saw a flare from below. Dirk was covering his escape. "I'll be back, _**neelon**_ ," he promised.

MacPherson grabbed his arm. "That's twice I've heard you call him that! What does it mean?"

"It means I chose him for a brother. Despite our differences during my last days as a Legionnaire, that bond never wavered."

"Oh, for a while there, I thought you two were lovers, or something."

"Me and Dirk?" Jan laughed. "No, he was always searching for some outside approval. To me, public image meant whether or not I could make a statement as a Legionnaire without being laughed at. To him, it was a measure of self-esteem. Here we are. I'd better get back to him and make sure the Circle isn't able to try to capture us again."

"Element Lad, make sure he lives," MacPherson asked with an intensity that told him she was talking about far more than just the Dark Circle. However, there was no time to question her. Every second was a second that Dirk could be blasted out of the sky.

_I'm sorry that the new show isn't in production yet. This would be great proof that there's fire in the ol' boy yet!_ Dirk crowed to himself. His adrenaline was higher than it had been since the Black Dawn, and this time, he felt he was control of the situation. True, it was his back against a laser-pitted wall, but he was holding a whole damn army at bay, and he hadn't made a mistake in handling them at all. 

The army suddenly hushed. Dirk stopped throwing fire blasts and saw why. All of the Dark Circle's heavy artillery was gone. Both the Circle soldiers and the Terran stared at the reason: One man, clad in soiled blue riding a platform that floated by his will. His calmness at the casual removal of hundreds of tons of compounds scared and stunned the Circle.

"I don't think I need to explain to you what happened," Jan began quietly. "The Dark Circle is no more welcome here to plunder the living than the grave robbers are to plunder the dead. You are free to leave. I have not destroyed your ship's life support or propulsion. Leave me and my people in the peace we deserve, or you will regret it later."

There was no drama to the threat, nor was it needed. Dirk could tell that even these religious fanatics heard the simple truth in Jan's speech. Maybe it was time to dramatically enforce the statement, though, Dirk thought and flared again.

"Drop you weapons, kids! You don't need them any more." Numbed, the group obeyed. "You heard the man. Get out of here."

For the next few hours, the pair watched as the members of the Dark Circle obeyed their commands. The evacuation went almost without incident. A well-placed burst of flame or a simple warning was all that was needed to insure things went smoothly. Finally, one band of intruders left the dead world, and its one living man alone again.

"That solves one problem," Jan sighed as he watched the fire trail of the departing ship.

"What's the other?" his companion asked, and then looked at Jan's face. "Oh, us."

"What am I going to do with you, Dirk?" the Trommite asked wearily.

"You're going to let me check on my crew and take a shower. I don't think they'll be up to travelling tonight. Could we leave a bit later?"

"Tomorrow."

"I'll let them know that. Meet me on the south ridge in a couple of hours, okay? We'll talk some."

Jan stared intently into the other's face, as if trying to discover some hidden motivation. After a moment, he nodded. "It does sound good."

Dusk brought a blue green sky with yellow highlights from the city of the dead. There was a breeze that carried the acrid smell of decay from what had once been a proud testament of human artistry. It made Dirk sad to think of the civilizations that stopped (or were stopped) from developing into something even more. As he came closer to the meeting site, he heard the delicate strands of a native Tromian instrument, the vaslet. Jan described himself as a poor student, but Dirk suspected Jan was being modest. Of course, he had never heard a vaslet master, and never would. 

"Man, you look ugly with a bald head! Ugggg-LY!" he shouted to the figure on top of the hill.

"Oh, well, after I got caught in that sandstorm a few days ago, I knew I needed a haircut. But it helped my pose as a deranged madman."

"It did that. And now, thanks to the Dark Circle, you won't need one for another year or so." Dirk plopped himself down beside his old friend and announced, "I hate this place. It forces me to be honest."

"Silence often does that to people."

"That and hanging around in a giant graveyard. I brought some wine, bread, and for those of us who like amino acids, some Jarlsberg cheese."

Jan picked up the bottle. "Nahahasstle red, 2978."

"One of the finest wines made in the past thirty years. I managed to hang onto it after I lost everything else. I'm so far in debt that the Earthgov will be garnishing my wages until 3034!" Jan glanced a question to Dirk. "Yeah, I borrowed, begged and divested what I could to keep the Legion alive. You probably heard how successful that was."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be! Damn it, Jan, we needed you!"

"I couldn't stay, Dirk; you know that. Earthgov was demanding I think their thoughts, not my own. I can't allow myself to be enslaved."

"I know," Dirk responded quietly. "The universe stays a whole lot safer that way."

"I also couldn't betray what my people should stand for. Sacrifice, not slaughter." The silence returned as the two men drank the wine and broke bread in companionship. Their thoughts wondered where they would, never crossing until Jan mentioned, "I saw your passport-- the fake one. You know why your cousin brought here."

"Besides to tangle with you, if necessary? Yeah. She's hoping I'll have enough sense to jump ship and ask for asylum on some U.P. world."

"Have you considered it?"

"Where would I go, Jan? I need a sponsor before immigration will even look at my application seriously."

"There's Winath. I'm sure Garth and Ayla would love to see you."

"Oh, yeah, I'd make a great farmer. Can you see me working in the dirt?"

"There's machine work, and Imra probably could use a hand in the office; especially since she's expecting again."

"Oh, no! I'm not going anywhere near a pregnant Imra! I learned my lesson the last time! I thought she did too! Winath's out, Jan."

"How about Reep, then? I'm sure Brandeco could use another nuclear scientist."

"Nahh, I'm so far behind in recent developments, I'd have to be re-trained."

"What about public relations, then?"

"Cham's enough of a charmer. He doesn't need me."

"Chuck and Luornu are running a training academy on--Xolnar, I think."

"I hate direct education."

"There's Rimbor. Jo could use a great pilot in his civil disobedience."

"Jan, civil disobedience is when you refuse to pay your taxes, not when you're stringing up naked cops by their asses! Get that smile off your face. You know damn well that you wouldn't think it was funny if it was Shvaughn who was assaulted that way, and neither would I. She's the only one from the old days who's given a damn about me."

Jan looked away. "I... see."

"No, you don't see! And don't be so goddamned patronizing! You saw some of what I went through when I tried to keep the Legion alive! I called the others, the ones who left like the rats they were when they realized the Legion was drowning, for help... any sort of help. I wasn't asking for that much, I thought. Just a few thousand credits to keep what I thought they believed in going for a few days longer... until the universe remembered it needed us. I was ready to pay it back as soon as I could. But no, the richest clan on Winath and the richest man in the universe couldn't afford to help keep the Legion alive, let alone the ladies who own their own goddamned planets. It wasn't worth their money, or their time, or even their well-wishes. No. I take that back--they said they loved me like a brother and they wished me luck. Maybe we hung around long enough to really become a family. Families just dump you when you become an inconvenience to them." He swallowed a mouthful of wine, but it was uncharacteristically bitter.

"I don't think I like your tone or your words, Dirk, " Jan warned quietly.

"You know what I mean. They didn't care when I was asking for their help to save the dream we were all a part of, Jan. Why would they care when all that's at risk is my own miserable skin?" Dirk turned away from his friend, but it was clear he was crying. In other days, Jan would have embraced him and tried to find the words to comfort him since he felt so betrayed by those he loved and admired. But those days were long ago. 

Silence reigned again for unmeasured beats. "Dirk, you could always stay here with me."

"No. No, I can't Jan. Unlike you, I need people--living people. I couldn't live on a world where there's no laughter, or no crowds. Besides, just because Earth doesn't need the Legion doesn't mean it doesn't need me. You called it right, Jan, when you told me that Terran society was terminally ill. It's forgotten a lot of its pride and brought down a lot of its own symbols. The Sistine Chapel was razed. The pope had to leave Vatican City. And the United Nations Monument has been replaced by a porn mall. The Space Museum closed due to lack of donations from private and government sectors. You remember how much R.J. loved that old place?" Dirk shook his head. "Now, while my world is tearing down all of its icons, is when it needs a hero. Not just one to remind them of what they were, but someone who lost everything--including his pride and the shirt off his back--to remind them that what was stripped away can be rebuilt. It's not easy, and sometimes compromises have to be made, but we can do it!"

"But will your new government let you rebuild? There seems to be a lot of Dominator influence in the government you serve, despite their protestations to the contrary. We of the Sentry Worlds remember how badly they wanted the human metagene, and what they did to our ancestors who had it. A lot of pain and suffering was caused by the Dominion to guarantee that every Trommite was a transmuter, or every Braalian had magnetic powers."

"The Dominion's relationship with Earth changed when the Earth/Dominion Treaty was signed. They may want our DNA, but they can't take it from someone who doesn't want them to."

"Maybe, Dirk, maybe... things are changing back? I worry about you. I fear that the Earthers who love you now will spit on your grave after they've put you there. I fear the journey you've set for yourself can only lead to unhappiness."

"Maybe you're right, Jan. But damnit, I've got to try. To give up and hide now would be to admit that humanity isn't worth anything on the world it was born on. I can't do that, especially since it isn't true."

Jan laughed. "I always loved the fire in your soul--"

"--Oh, God, what a pun!"

"--But we could only stoke it when you were passionate about art and your friends. I'm glad to see it's still there. You won't accept my offer of a home, but will you accept my prayers for your well-being and success?"

The Terran hugged his friend. He felt the shock that Jan felt at the contact. "How long have you been alone?" he asked.

There were tears in Jan's eyes. "Long enough," he answered huskily. "Dirk, I'm afraid this is the last time I'll see you alive."

"Damnit, Jan. You don't have to be alone.... Sorry. You're leaving me to my beliefs; I should leave you to yours. It's just...." in the last bit of the fading light, Dirk studied Jan's face, "don't shut yourself off from people, Jan. We need you too." Again, he embraced his friend. This time, Jan did not pull away. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around Dirk, and brought his lips close enough to Dirk where he could taste the wine on the other man's breath.

It was Dirk's turn to hesitate, but what the hell, he decided. He wasn't sure if it was the wine numbing his inhibitions, or the fact that on this dead world, he could indeed be honest with himself. He didn't have to tell Jan what he was thinking. _**I may not ever see you again, Jan, but we've been more than just comrades and friends. You're the only man I've ever made love to... hell, you might be the only one I've ever made love to... I wish I was what you really need, but we both know better.**_ Silence reigned, except for the soft moans. There was nothing left to be said.

  
The End


End file.
